Ford, Jessie

by Remember Me Love

  "I believe you're mistaken. I've not heard either of them speak of investments in mining."

  Ben smiled. "Well, let's just say you must've been around for other conversation." His implication was as unmistakable, as was his lengthy gaze. His remarks drew a deep chuckle from his companion.

  Louisa gave Jack a scalding look which momentarily stopped his laughter. "Don't think you're too good for me, lady," he threatened, reaching into her cloak with both hands to clutch her breasts roughly. "I can make it nice or nasty, whatever you wish," he suggested coarsely as she shrank from him in revulsion.

  "Get off her!" Ben commanded. "We'll get what we want from her―but ya gotta decide what ya want. Do ya want a few shots at her, or do you want your pockets full o' gold?"

  Jack had every intention of satisfying himself right then and there, but Ben physically interfered. "Damn it, man! Let her be!" he shouted, grabbing the younger man roughly. "This isn't what we figured on!" and the younger man let go reluctantly, and Louisa found herself unbelievably moving toward Ben, knowing her safety was not the least sure.

  "Let's get camp set up," Ben barked in the next breath. For a few short moments, Jack stared at his friend, then did as Ben ordered without comment. Soon a campfire was blazing, Louisa sitting motionless, close by. Jack looked after the horses, while Ben offered Louisa leftovers from the ample noonday meal. Louisa was nearly too afraid to eat, but reasoned she'd better eat while she could, suspecting the next meals might be harder to come by.

  As soon as she finished, she stood up. ''Where'd you think you're going?" Ben inquired sharply.

  "I need a few minutes to myself."

  "You'll not get 'em," he said, rising to his feet.

  Louisa's astonishment was seen clearly in her face.

  "I'll be goin' with you."

  "But . . ."

  Before she could protest further, he grabbed her arm brusquely, and dragged her with him into the brush, stopping some distance from the campfire. "Well, get to it."

  Louisa stood and stared at him.

  "Get on with it, woman!"

  "Mr. Patrick! I'm unused to an audience," she said with consternation.

  "I ain't leavin'," he said impatiently.

  Louisa stared a moment longer. "You will at least turn your back!"

  "Give me that bag," he demanded, snatching the carpetbag she clutched. "Got yourself a weapon hidden there?"

  "No. Only a few things I'll be needing." Unable to withhold the bag from him, she watched as he searched the contents.

  "Only this and that? And some cloth?" His voice was amused.

  "Just that."

  "You travel light for such a fancy lady," he sneered.

  "If you'll give me my bag, and turn your back, please." He complied, stepping away a short distance, allowing her only very little privacy.

  Despite the pain she'd experienced, Louisa was relieved to confirm her bleeding throughout the day had not been excessive. She hoped, if necessary, this very condition would spare her from what it was clear Jack Herbert, at least, had in mind. She prayed her condition would repulse him enough to protect her. Why, she asked herself, when she first saw these two unsavory men hadn't she at least thought to carry a gun?

  "You may turn around, now," she said, moving toward Ben.

  "I thank you, ma'am," he replied sarcastically, taking her arm again, escorting her back to camp, roughly ordering her to sit close by him before the fire. "I think someone is a-goin' to want to pay a high price for your safe return," he said as she sat obediently and uncomfortably where he'd insisted.

  "I can't think who it would be," Louisa retorted with sarcasm.

  "How about that fancy-looking husband of yours? Now, he looked like he was surely goin' to miss you!" Jack smiled as if he had tales to tell, and Louisa quickly righted herself, glaring back at him hotly.

  "There's lots o' rumors about that fancy place you been visitin'," Ben continued, "and maybe you could tell us a few things we'd like to know."

  "I doubt there's much I could tell you. My husband and I were merely houseguests. Those people you saw are friends from home. My husband's family is in the shipping business. That's the extent of my knowledge of his affairs!"

  The men stared at her, both questioning whether to believe her or not. "While you were out walking with the lady, I found some interesting things in her baggage," Jack said with obvious satisfaction. He pulled her jewel case from behind the rock he was sitting on. "And from the looks of what's here, there'll be a nice purse for her safe return―for her return, anyway," he corrected himself.

  Ben grabbed the case and greedily sorted through the jewels, giving a low whistle at several items, shouting when he clutched the emerald collar. "God Almighty! Would you look at that!" And he was silenced as he watched the stones glitter in the firelight.

  "Now I'd've guessed she was some fancy prize, but she must be somethin' to warrant that" Jack offered, eying her forthrightly.

  "I'll say!"

  "Bet some queens don't have so much."

  "Could be," Ben speculated, taking a longer, harder look at Louisa. He smiled greedily. "Seems we've come into a piece of good luck."

  "At least into a piece!" Jack roared.

  "Look, Jack! Cool off! We gotta think this through a little more. There's more to this than we thought."

  "Yes, sir, you've said just exactly what I'm thinking!"

  Ben grabbed the younger man's arm. "Shut up and listen to me. And listen good. If you touch her I'll kill you. We've got a chance to grab something big, and I'm going to see to it you don't fuck it for us by fucking the broad! Understand?"

  There was no doubt he meant it. He spoke as viciously as Louisa had ever heard anyone speak, and apparently Jack was convinced of the man's intentions, for he replied almost respectfully to Ben. And for a very short while Louisa thought she was safe.

  Chapter Seventy-three

  SOME minutes later Louisa found her wrists and ankles bound together. For the sake of speedier travel, Ben decided to abandon the carriage, and Louisa sat crouched on the ground while the carriage was moved to a less obvious place some distance away. While the team horses were freed to forage for themselves, Ben and Jack's saddle horses were left tethered near the campsite. Louisa's single truck had been thoroughly searched. This time nothing of interest to the men was discovered. She was permitted to retain only the clothes on her back, her carpetbag, and the wool cape Mrs. Stevens had designed and made.

  While Jack hid the carriage, Ben prepared for the three of them to move a little farther from the main road for the night. The moon was bright and they could travel easily. "You'll have to ride with Jack. My horse has all it can do to carry me. I trust you'll behave yourself," he snickered.

  Louisa made no reply, not in the least relishing a moment's contact with Jack Herbert, praying earnestly for her safety, but not at all hopeful as the prospects of the night loomed before her. Ben untied her feet before he helped her roughly onto Jack's horse, but her hands were kept bound, and she sat rigidly in front of her captor. "Relax a little, honey," he suggested. "It'll feel good in a while." His free hand roughly explored the contours of her body. "My God!" he exhaled in a whisper, not without admiration. She could feel the tension of his body, and his nearly involuntary motion against her as he pulled her to him forcefully.

  She struggled vigorously, repeatedly pushing away his probing hands, shrinking from his eager mouth on her neck, nearly toppling the both of them from the horse. "Leave me alone!" she begged. Real terror began to clutch at her; she felt like an animal trussed for sacrifice.

  Ben halted sharply on the road, turning around in his saddle. He pulled his revolver, and cocked it, aiming casually. "I'll put one of you down to walk if there's any more of it." he growled. "And by God, it doesn't matter to me who."

  "I'll gladly walk!" Louisa offered, almost begging.

  "No. It'll slow us down. Move ahead of me, Jack. You lead the way," he motioned with the gun. "Keep your eyes o
n the path, and, for now, your hands to yourself."

  Louisa was relieved, but feared it was only a reprieve; very conscious of the hardness of Jack's body, she sensed the animal hunger in him, knowing he had to make every effort to concentrate on anything other than her.

  They traveled at least an hour, coming to a thick stand of willowy trees, near some apparently cultivated fields, but not within eye range of habitation. "This'll do us for the night," Ben announced, dismounting, coming immediately to take Louisa from Jack's grip, giving his reins to Jack. "Bed 'em down. I'll see to the lady."

  Louisa relaxed slightly, knowing if she had any hope it was in Ben's hands, as unlikely a protector as he might seem. Ben untied her hands and spread a blanket for her on the ground. He pointed impatiently and she lay down, and he folded the blanket around her. Then he proceeded to settle himself for the night. He pulled a bottle of liquor from his possessions and tucked it under his arm, relieving himself a few feet from her without a second thought. Louisa turned away, and he laughed. "Haven't been around real men much, have you, pretty lady," and she shrank into the blanket in horror.

  Then she thought hopefully she heard him settle in his position for the night as the whiskey bottle cork popped and Ben gasped for air after a long draft.

  Jack joined him, bringing his own 'bottle. "Did ya offer the lady a swig, Ben?"

  "Guess I forgot my manners," he chuckled, "Seems she don't want our company―got her back turned to us already, and the evenin's young," he snorted.

  "Some prefer it that way. Maybe she's one," he offered congenially.

  Louisa closed her eyes tight, not moving, though she was swept with a wild stabbing of pain, exhaling the breath she held as slowly as possible when she could no longer bear the pressure in her lungs. Sweat came from every pore as she listened, not believing what she heard, or what was felt within her body.

  "Now, friend," Jack continued amiably, "how are we going to manage the night?" He drank heavily and fast from his bottle of whiskey. "You can't tell me her grand husband won't want her back if we take a little for ourselves, and besides, who's to tell him before he gets the package back?"

  Ben gave a low, growling laugh. "No one." He grinned in the darkness, eying Louisa slowly, savoring another long drink. "Who goes first?" he asked after a lengthy silence.

  "Me!" replied Jack as if it was his indisputable right, as if he meant to kill to insure it. "My idea; my right," swilling another deep draft of alcohol.

  "No! No!" Louisa screamed, rolling to face them, at the same time struggling to rise, backing away, not succeeding in her attempts at either motion. "Please! Please!" she begged. "I'm going to have a baby. It's not as it should be. I'm bleeding, and I know if you touch me, I'll lose it." She hoped to repulse, if not obtain sympathy. Her terror was unmistakable as she attempted to reason tearfully with her adversaries.

  At first the men were dumbfounded. Then Jack uttered a mirthless guttural laugh. "What a cunning bitch!" he said, approaching her viciously, pulling the blanket from her, beginning to struggle with her, to rip at her petticoats and bloomers. "And the more you scream, the more I'll like it!" he grunted at her, finally freeing her of her protective clothing, grabbing her hands, wrenching them behind her tightly, in the same motion penetrating her tense body with his maleness.

  She involuntarily gave him what he said he preferred, her screams frantic, full of terror and pain, the invasion of her body violent and terrible. She writhed helplessly under his brutal assault in the worst agony of her life, while her attacker carefully prolonged his pleasure. "Sweet Jesus," he exclaimed finally in satisfaction, slumping heavily against her when he finished.

  At first, watching Jack rape Louisa excited Ben. But when he sobered, it was too late. "God! Get off her!" he cursed. "What'd I let you talk me into? She wasn't lying! Look at the blood! You're covered with it!"

  Jack pulled himself away from her, seeing the dark stain on the whiteness of her petticoats and on himself as well, bloodying his hands as he rearranged his clothing.

  "Shit! She's no good to us dead! Why the fuck did I listen to you? You could've had every whore in Frisco for as long as you liked for what we'd've got outta her old man!"

  Louisa retched violently, her body shaking uncontrollably, now oblivious to the men who stood over her. She felt there was nothing more they could do to increase the pain she was suffering, and she gave herself up to it. From the beginning she feared she would miscarry, but this suspicion was no comfort now as she felt the new life within begin to leave her, and Louisa wondered, very briefly, if it might be better for everyone if she went with it.

  Chapter Seventy-four

  BEN and Jack stood quietly, still unmoved by Louisa's seizures of pain. She lay panting, her body and face contorted, trying to gain some control as spasms racked her body. Suddenly Ben advanced on her, as if he might take his turn at her, and Louisa's terror was magnified. His face was dark and furious, but he only wrenched away the blanket he'd given her earlier, and with great effort Louisa turned away from him.

  "What now?" Jack grumbled, and Ben struck at him with a meaty fist.

  "Son of a bitch!" he howled. The blow caught Jack slightly off guard, but he soon reacted, with equal violence. For the moment Louisa was forgotten, the tension and anger of the men suddenly focused elsewhere, but her terror was not abated, and between agonized contractions, Louisa crawled through the brush, not knowing where she went, collapsing helplessly whenever she was overcome with pain or weakness as she bled profusely. She had no clear thought, yet some primitive instinct drove her away from the brawling men.

  By the time the air was cleared between the men, Louisa was not in sight, and they argued whether to search for her or not.

  "If she can scurry away, she's all right," Jack reasoned, touching his broken nose very tentatively.

  "Even so, she'll be too much to deal with," Ben insisted.

  "She probably ain't havin' a baby―just bleeding, like they all do."

  Quickly Ben agreed, and they began to search, both liberally using whiskey to facilitate their endeavor, cursing the darkness when shadows turned out to be shadows.

  "Goddamn! This is useless!" Ben shouted finally. "Ya can search the rest o' the night―the rest o' your life―but I'm takin' them stones and getting what I can for 'em."

  With that announcement, Jack was quick to join his partner, their interest in Louisa waning, now confined to the price her small but impressive collection of jewels would bring. "She'll never make it alone. If nothing else, the coyotes'll hunt her down," Jack assured his friend.

  Louisa heard the men search on foot for her, and she concealed herself as best she could, her terror rising with every night sound, but she'd eluded them out of some luck she would never have believed possible. Now she heard the horses approaching her, certain she would be found or at least trampled to death. She dragged herself with effort, and, against all instinct, threw herself into the thickest part of a cluster of lowgrowing shrubs, not trusting she could be safe anywhere in the bright night. She cowered, head bowed as the hooves of the men's flying horses kicked sand and debris on her in their retreat, the sounds of the animals thundering at her, the feeling of impending attack from a crazed enemy pushing her mind to the brink of snapping.

  After the men abandoned her, Louisa lay in her thorny nest for nearly an hour. She was unaware of the slashes on her face and hands; unaware of the gashes in the thick wool of her cape made by the brambles into which she'd plunged herself. She tried to endure her pain silently, as if silence would assist her, but soon the night echoed with her pain. Some of the time she neither heard her own voice, nor felt the pain. She was detached, as if watching some other weary, trapped animal struggling for its life within its man-made death cage. For a time she floundered, certain―even grateful―she'd lost the struggle. Then she was granted a stay of execution, the contractions subsiding, exhaustion giving way to semiconsciousness.

  The reprieve was short, but during it she g
ained strength from some unknown source. When she opened her eyes, she felt herself to be in possession of her senses, a fact which became clear within moments when pain again grasped violently at her womb. She shut her eyes tightly, then peered into the starlit night through the net of brambles when pain released her. Her contractions were very close and intense, and her vision grew distorted, the limbs of shrubs turning into spidery webs of thorns; clawed hands reaching in the dark to inflict awful and familiar abuse.

  Again Louisa struggled along the ground, crawling she knew not where, but away. Always away. Perhaps she could escape this time. Perhaps she could find a warm safe shelter―somewhere. Never before in this life―but, surely, somewhere there was a truly safe place. Not just momentary sanctuary, but enduring, permanent peace. Some place where there was light. Some place that was never dark. Never lonely. Nor painful. Nor unprotected. "Please, God!"

  "Hail Mary full of grace . . ."

  Louisa collapsed, sweat and tears mingling with the dust of the roadbed. She cried out pitifully, screaming and heaving for air. "Please!" Begging. Crawling.... the Lord is with thee . . .

  Reaching for whatever lay in her path to pull her along; any means to free herself from pain and terror.

  "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus . . ."

  Where was there shelter? Where was there safety?

  There seemed to be none for her―anywhere―ever.

  "Holy Mary, Mother of God . . ." she pleaded.

  Was there nothing but misery in this night's darkness as well?

  Louisa crawled until her strength gave out, and she was engulfed in a sea of slender stalked plants, or were they the lances of the enemy, and their leaves the pennants of an army that had surrounded her? What did the voices chant in the distance? Or was it the wind? She begged to die, for the soldiers standing around her, silent and immobile, to execute her―but swiftly, she implored.

  "Pray for us sinners now―and at the hour of our death."